Anywhere But Here
by Catty Jay
Summary: Find yourself. That's all it said. With her Abuela's last words, Santana hitches a ride with two unlikely friends as they set off on a road trip that may just help her find what she's looking for. Quinntana/Pezberry with Faberry friendship.
1. Show Me What I'm Looking For

**Chapter 1: Show Me What I'm Looking For**

With a click of her lighter, Santana brought a fresh cigarette to her lips and ignited the end. She took in a deep drag, looking up from the worn book in her hand and pushing her aviators to the top of her head. She could see the heat lines coming off the dry asphalt in the distance, obscuring the oncoming traffic.

Every car and truck that passed her kicked up a cloud of dust and dirt, blowing it across her face. With a sigh she slipped her sunglasses back on her nose, and began flipping through the novel that lay open in her hand. She hadn't the faintest idea of why she came into possession of it. She knew the how and the when, but the why escaped her.

With her still burning cigarette between her fingers, she flipped to the back cover of the thin book, reading the excerpt as another truck came and went. "All endings are also beginnings. We just don't know it at the time."

Santana shook her head, trying to decipher something, _anything._ But she just felt like she was going around in circles. All logical thought escaped her. Which wasn't anything new. She'd been lost for a while now, ever since she found out.

She flipped to the middle of the book, a small folded note in the centre. She pulled it out, before shutting the cover and tossing it on top of her knapsack that lay discarded in the dirt beside her. Even though she had read its contents a hundred times over the past few days, her hands still shook when she opened it, hoping that it had changed from the last time she saw those haunting words.

_**Santana,**_

_**Find yourself.**_

_**I'll be waiting for you when you do.**_

_**Abuela.**_

_Find yourself._

Not even I love you or I'll miss you. Just _find yourself_.

Santana shouldn't have been surprised; her grandmother was never one to show affection, or anything that could be construed as weakness for that matter. She was a hard woman right to the very end. But she was also strong, and wise, and caring. And Santana loved her. She was her best friend.

_Was._

The use of past tense hit her like a ton of bricks, knocking the wind from her lungs. It made her clench her jaw tighter and scrunch the tiny slip of paper that was in her hand. She let out a strangled breath and released her fist, flattening out any creases in the note, before folding it back up and placing it in the book once more. Taking another drag of her dying cigarette, she began to kick the dirt beneath her worn, untied boots, doing her best to compose herself.

It wasn't a shock when it happened, she'd known about the cancer for a year before she'd taken a turn. It was then that her father sent her grandmother to Los Angeles from Lima for treatment. But by then it was too late. Santana knew it; they all knew it. Yet they tried anyway. So she'd had a year to prepare for the inevitable end, but when the moment came to say goodbye it was like she was finding out all over again.

She went through the clichéd stages of grieving that they say you go through. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. But now a month later she was still finding it hard to move from the fourth to the fifth, a part of her refusing to accept this fate when all she had was an inheritance and a worn copy of _The Five People You Meet In Heaven_ as the reminders her Abuela decided to leave behind.

When she sat in the hard leather chair opposite the somewhat pompous lawyer last week, she just felt numb. Here was a man that was just going to divide up her grandmother's life like it was mere inventory with a price tag. Even as he read out the will, the words ten thousand dollars and inheritance barely registered above the ringing in her ears. It wasn't until her mother gently rubbed her hand with her fingertips that she noticed the suit holding out a brown paper package for her with an expectant set to his brow. She snatched it off him and left it sitting on the armrest next to her as she continued to stare dejectedly at the mahogany bookcase behind his oversized desk.

The man had told her that she needed to open it so he could confirm that Santana had received its contents. She just snapped that she'd received it, swore and stormed out, the small package clutched in her left hand.

Her parents were worried, any caring parents would be. They didn't know how to handle their daughter anymore. She had gone from their loving, straight A student to an emotionally closed off girl that just seemed to be drifting through life. But when the cab arrived to take them to LAX, Santana, with as much strength as she could, asked them to let her go; to let her find her own way home. It was probably the greatest kindness she'd ever received from them when they simply nodded sadly and closed the car door.

Santana knew that they didn't understand her; though they tried. They weren't bad parents, they were actually pretty decent. Her father was the local GP back in Lima, and her mother taught science at the community college.

They were normal.

And they didn't get her at all.

Santana brought the last of her cigarette up to her lips, taking in a dissatisfying drag. Her body no longer welcomed the taste, or the relaxing hit. She flicked the butt onto the heated bitumen and watched as the embers scattered across the road. She stared at them, as they turned from glowing orange to black, thinking back over her Abuela's words.

_I'll be waiting for you._

She reached over to her bag and picked up the book again, reading over the back cover, searching for something that made at the least a shard of logical sense.

_**With his final breath, he feels two small hands in his – and then nothing. He awakens in the afterlife, where he learns that heaven is not a lush Garden of Eden but a place where your earthly life is explained to you by five people who were in it. These people may have been loved ones or distant strangers. Yet each of them changed your path forever.**_

_Is she trying to tell me she's one of them, or am I yet to meet any?_

The ground vibrated beneath her thick-soled boots, the sound of airbrakes and exhaust rumbling and churning the air around her. Santana looked up to see a large red eighteen-wheeler pull up beside her on the lip of the road. Shoving the book into the top of her bag, Santana got to her feet and dusted off the back of her denim shorts. Her black boots crunched against the gravel as she made her way up to the side of the semi.

An old bloodhound had its head sticking out of the lowered window, its droopy eyes looking down at her in curiosity. She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder as a gruff voice came from inside the cab. "Do you need a ride?"

A man in his early sixties appeared beside the dog, a wide smile appearing on his face. His skin was cracked and aged by the sun, his short beard almost completely grey and whiskery. He seemed friendly enough, his thick southern drawl somewhat comforting to her even though they were complete strangers.

_Are you one of my five?_

"I can take you as far as Phoenix, if you like?" he continued when he received no response from her.

Santana simply shrugged her shoulders and smiled politely at the man, before stepping onto the ledge of the truck and heaving herself up through the now open door. She swung her pack behind the chair where the hound was now happily lazing on the small backseat, and closed the heavy door. She settled herself into the worn leather, smooth country music playing low on the radio.

The old man threw the semi into gear, and pulled back out onto the long stretch of road. The cab had the faint smell of sweat with a hint of chewing tobacco, the engine even louder from the inside as it echoed around the enclosed space. The man kept his eyes on the road, changing the shift every so often and humming along to the music.

"Bill's my name," he rasped, glancing in her direction. "And what might your name be, young lady?"

"Santana," she replied.

"Well Santana, I'll be stopping just up the road for a minute or two. There is a diner just a few miles from here, so you can grab a cup of coffee if you want while I do my business, and then we'll be on our way."

Santana just nodded as she glanced at her watch, the hour hand just hitting eleven. It didn't take long before they were pulling into the car park, Bill driving up the back entrance and parking the semi in an available spot. Santana popped the door open and hopped down after grabbing her bag from behind her. She didn't wait to see what Bill was doing or whether he got out, letting him go about his business in peace.

Walking around the side of the diner she could see in through the window at the small crowd that occupied the red vinyl booths, and the waitresses that rushed by serving coffee and the lunchtime specials to the customers. Coming up to the glass door, Santana passed an old VW Kombi van parked out front near the entrance. It was a faded light blue and had a yellow smiley face air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror, with an array of pealing bumper stickers scattered across the back window. She lazily ran her finger along the side as she passed, the metal hot to the touch.

A small bell sounded as she walked through the entryway and took a seat at the counter. A redheaded woman in her forties came over with a notepad and pen, her hair in a tight bun under her waitressing hat. "What can I get for you?" she chirped as she brought pen to paper.

"Just a coffee to go."

The woman nodded and turned away to get the glass pot from behind her, Santana reaching into the front zipper of her black canvas bag and pulling out her purse. She walked back over with the coffee in hand, placing a takeaway cup down on the counter and pouring the dark liquid until it reached the top. Santana had just handed her a ten-dollar note when the sound of childish laughter reached her ears and drew her attention away from the waitress.

As the woman left to go to the till, Santana swivelled on her stool to see two girls in a booth across the diner. The shorthaired blonde was currently making a house out of her waffles, while a brunette was looking at a road map that was spread across half the table. The taller of the two had just grabbed the sugar and was sprinkling it over her waffles, a wide smile spreading across her lips.

"Rach, it's snowing," Santana heard her say, followed by an infectious laugh that made her insides tighten.

Her friend looked up from the map with a smile, reaching over and dislodging the sugar-coated door, before popping it into her mouth. Her grinning continued even when the other girl had begun to playfully scowl, though it came off as adorable rather than intimidating. The blonde leant over, forking a portion of the girl's pancakes and brought it to her mouth, chewing in silent satisfaction. The other just shook her head and went back to looking over the map, pulling it up off the bench top in an attempt to shield herself from her friend's childish pout.

With a slight empty feeling, Santana swung around as the waitress came back with her change and a plastic lid for her coffee. She thanked her, giving her a generous tip, before taking the lid and popping it securely on the top of her cup. She shouldered her bag and stood up, Santana turning back to the two girls just as she reached the glass door, not wanting to leave without one last glimpse of them.

The girl that was eating waffles was now throwing toothpicks into the house like miniature spears, the small pieces getting lodged in the roof. Her next one missed entirely, putting a tiny hole in the map her friend, Rach, was holding. As soon as it pierced the delicate paper, she dropped it to the table and threw the toothpick right back at her, the girl ducking out of the way. Santana could see her apologize with her hands up in surrender, though she laughed all the way through it, only making Rach throw more of the small wooden sticks.

With one last look at the two friends, Santana pushed the door open and began walking back to the semi around the back of the diner. Bill was already leaning up against the nudge bar, his white button up shirt fluttering in the warm breeze. When he saw Santana approaching, he let out a high-pitched whistle, his dog bounding over from a nearby tree.

They climbed in and settled back into the comfortable silence from before. Bill wasn't a hard man to be around. He didn't feel the need to fill the time with small talk or invasive questions. He just left her to stare out over the passing scenery as it went from dry shrubs and flat fields, to crops and green pastures. Bill would occasionally sing along to the music, or answer his radio when it squawked underneath the dash, but he mostly concentrated on the road ahead.

But with silence came thoughts, and with thoughts came her Abuela. But rather than thinking about what they'd had, her thoughts wandered to all the memories she'd no longer be able to make with her. All the things she no longer had the opportunity to tell her. So much was stolen from her, from _them_.

There was one thing that she wished she had told her before the end. She'd been hiding it from her for so long that by the time she'd gotten cancer it felt like she couldn't hurt her further by telling her. She knew what her reaction would be, and she hated disappointing her. She didn't want to see that look of disgust cross her face when she was already in so much pain.

Santana turned to Bill, the man whistling along to a Kenny Rogers song on the radio. She thought about her Abuela's words as she looked at his aging face, his white hair covered by his worn trucker cap. She wanted to tell him, even though it would achieve nothing. It wouldn't bring her grandmother back. It wouldn't make her hear the words. It wouldn't change a thing. But as Bill tore his gaze from the road and looked at her in curiosity, she could just feel the words on the tip of her tongue.

_Find yourself._

"I'm gay."

His face scrunched in confusion, Santana holding her breath as she worried her bottom lip against her teeth. After a moment his expression levelled out, that smile never leaving his face. He turned his eyes back to the road, placing a comforting hand on her knee and gently squeezing, before bringing it back to the wheel. They went back to their silence, Santana returning her gaze to the outside world.

_Yep, that didn't make me feel better._

Twenty minutes later, Bill pulled into an old gas station, parking the semi in the large vehicle bay closer to the road. He unbuckled his seatbelt and adjusted his hat, before he climbed down from the truck, his dog following him out. Santana grabbed her bag and hopped down as well, slinging it over her back as she made her way over to an old and flaking bench on the side of the road. She reached into the pocket of her denim shorts and grabbed her last cigarette from the small packet.

Discarding the box, she flicked her metal lighter and inhaled the smoke into her lungs. It burnt on the way down, Santana cringing as she slowly released the white smoke. With a frustrated sigh, she tossed the full cigarette onto the road, it rolling across the asphalt, the tip slowly dying.

The sound of distance music met her ears as she kicked at the gravel with her now dust covered boots. Santana looked up just in time to see the blue Kombi from the diner speed past in a flurry of Joan Jett and laughter. She watched it go, only for the van to slow fifty feet down the road, the red brake lights flashing dimly in the early afternoon sun. Santana cocked an eyebrow when it began to reverse back up, only stopping when it reached the bench where she was standing.

A girl popped her head out of the driver side window, Santana surprised when she recognized her as the one making the waffle house from the diner. She bit her lip and pushed her pink-tinted sunglasses to the top of her head, looking Santana up and down. It was then that she saw the girl's eyes; these perfect almond eyes that had Santana losing her train of thought as they flicked up to met hers. "Want a ride?"

Santana shook herself out of her momentary daze to see her friend lean forward into view, a warm half smile on her face. Her brown hair was in two half braids that just touched her shoulders, and there was a certain air of innocence about her that came through in her smile.

"Oh, that's okay," Santana mumbled. "I'm with Big Red." She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at the large eighteen-wheeler, both girls looking over to the truck than back to each other.

Rach seemed to shrug, nonchalant, the other girl glancing back at Santana with the hint of a smirk. "You're seriously choosing some guy over the two of us?" she queried, gesturing between the two of them. She shot her that smile again. It caused Santana's heart to thud a little faster in her chest, her words getting stuck behind her tongue. Misconstruing her silence for refusal, she continued to try and convince her. "We have bean bags."

"And a lava lamp," Rach piped up.

"And Joan Jett."

Santana was unable to wipe her elation from her face. It had been months since she genuinely smiled, or felt anything akin to happiness. It was an odd feeling, especially coming from two people she had only known for two minutes.

The girl flicked off the music and leant her elbow on the ledge of the open window, regarding her seriously for a moment. "Come on," she coaxed. "Where are you headed?"

"Anywhere but here," Santana said wistful, looking back up the expanse of road that stretched either side of her.

"Well you're in luck," she chuckled. "Cause we're going to Disney World."

"And you're driving?" Santana asked, sceptical. "Wouldn't it be quicker to just fly?"

"Of course, but where's the fun in that?"

Santana turned her head and looked back at the red semi behind her, mulling the offer over. She felt bad for Bill since he seemed genuinely like a nice man, and he was very generous for picking up a total stranger in the first place. But here were two girls that within a few minutes had made her forget about why she was even stranded.

"Okay," she digressed, "Sure." Turning back to them, she rounded the other side of the van where Rach had already opened the sliding door.

She slid into the back, tossing her bag to the floor and settling into the long off-white vinyl seat. There were empty Slushie cups and Coke bottles lying on the carpeted floor at her feet, Santana clipping her seatbelt loosely across her lap. She turned to look behind her, and sure enough there were two red beanbags with a yellow lava lamp going in the corner. There was also a stack of magazines and the girls' duffle bags lying just behind her seat.

Turning back around she saw the blonde girl scribbling something with a sharpie on the dash while the other held out her hand in greeting. "I'm Rachel, and this is Quinn."

"Santana." She leaned forward, taking the offered hand. All of a sudden Quinn jumped out of the van and began to jog over to Bill's semi trailer. She leapt up onto the metal step and hauled herself into the cab, disappearing inside.

"What's she doing?" Santana asked, slightly shocked.

"Oh, she's just leaving a note for your friend," Rachel told her. "We don't want him thinking we kidnapped you."

Santana nodded in understanding, a little saddened that she didn't think to do so herself. Quinn reappeared after a moment, running back over and sitting behind the wheel again, slamming the heavy door behind her.

"Welcome aboard the Elmo express," she announced, trying to suppress the giggle bubbling behind her lips. "I will be your driver for the duration of your stay-"

"Elmo?" Santana questioned. "But it's blue."

"My point exactly," Rachel jumped in, before Quinn could respond. She shot a playful glare at her, before turning her attention to the backseat.

"Sant-Ana?" she began, eyeing her suggestively. "Are you a saint?"

The way she was looking at her sent a chill down Santana's back and had her swallowing heavily. She dropped her eyes to her lap, unable to hold her gaze. This girl was definitely going to get her in trouble. She took a breath and looked back at Quinn who now had a teasing grin on her lips.

"Elmo Express."

The smirk didn't leave Quinn's face as she hummed in smug agreement and turned back to the road. Flicking the stereo back on, she settled into her seat, the guitar riff to _I Love Rock 'n' Roll_ filling the van again. She started the engine, the vibrations rattling through the seats. Santana watched as Quinn pulled the van back onto the road, the wind whipping her short hair around her face as she placed her sunglasses back on her nose.

Santana could feel a set of dark brown eyes on her, shifting her gaze to Rachel who was leaning her chin on the back of her seat and watching her careful. She looked away bashfully, a slight flush colouring her cheeks as she turned her eyes to the back window and to the gas station they were slowly leaving behind.

Santana bit her lip, turning to her bag and fishing out the book from on top of her clothes. She flipped to the first page, bending it back and began to read.

_**All endings are beginnings. We just don't know it at the time…**_

* * *

><p><strong>I know I'll get asked, so unlike AIWNSG, I've never been to the places they are going. But what kind of writer would I be if I let that stop me.<strong>

**Until next time…**


	2. The Beginning Of A Beautiful Friendship

**Chapter 2: The Beginning Of A Beautiful Friendship**

"_**There are five people you meet in heaven," the Blue Man suddenly said. "Each of us was in your life for a reason. You may not have known the reason at the time, and that is what heaven is for. For understanding your life on earth."**_

"What are you reading?"

Santana looked up from the book in her hands to a pair of warm brown eyes. Rachel was leaning on the back of her seat, her chin resting on her arms. The corner of Santana's lips pulled up, but her mind was still a mess of confused thoughts and unanswered questions; questions her grandmother seemed reluctant to answer while she was still here.

_It would have been so much simpler if she explained this to me when she was alive._

Santana looked back down to the open book, debating with herself whether to just shut Rachel out like she'd done to everyone the past year. But then her mind went back to the note that was still tucked in her denim shorts, those words playing on a constant loop.

With a tired breath, she closed the worn cover and looked back at Rachel, those eyes still watching her carefully. "Just a book my grandmother gave me," she mumbled, running her fingers over the dark blue cover. It was creased and peeling at the corners like it had been read at least a dozen times.

"What's it about?"

The question was fired off immediately, Rachel looking at her with those curious eyes. Her grin was friendly and childlike, the tiny wisps of loose hair from her braids blowing lightly in the breeze. It made Santana's smile grow just a little bit wider. The girl seemed genuinely interested and Santana didn't have the heart to refuse her.

"I've no idea," Santana laughed, lightly. "Probably why she gave it to me though. She was _always_ trying to teach me something."

"Was?" Rachel asked, leaning further forward in her seat, her brow knitting together.

Her tone was warm, but Santana couldn't help her heart sinking at the question, no matter how innocent her intentions. She let her eyes fall shut for a moment, her thoughts going back to that hospital bed and the sound of the rhythmic beeping. It rang in her ears. It was a hard sound to forget, especially when it had turned from a beeping to a monotonous screech.

Swallowing heavily, Santana shook the memory from her head and fixed her eyes back on Rachel. "She, uh, died about a month ago," she murmured, those words still hard to say out loud.

Rachel's smile dropped from her face and was replaced with a look of pity; an expression Santana was no stranger to this past year. "I'm so sorry," Rachel told her, shaking her head gently.

Apologies were also well-worn territory for Santana, having had the privilege of listening to them for the last month from various insincere relatives. So when those two words left Rachel's mouth, it was Santana's knee jerk reaction to just dismiss them with a wave of her hand.

Rachel's eyes dropped to her lap, Santana feeling a sudden rush of guilt at her downcast expression. She knew full well Rachel wasn't another family member pretending to console her; the girl was just showing concern.

"Sorry," Santana said, fiddling with the tattered front cover. "Just gets old after awhile."

Rachel nodded, that kindness coming back to her features before turning around to face the front. Out of the corner of her eye, Santana saw a flash of hazel in the rear-view. It was only for a moment, but what Santana saw wasn't pity or remorse. Those perfect almond eyes held understanding, Santana noticing a sad smile on Quinn's lips. It was strangely comforting, and made her heart swell a little as she turned her gaze to the window.

It had been an hour since the gas station, the view changing from crops and long grass to the dry California desert that seemed to stretch on for miles. It was dusty and desolate, rocky mountain peaks jutting out over the horizon. Spindly shrubs scattered across the sand in the thousands while signs for the Twentynine Palms Highway flew by every few miles. Santana rested her head on the back seat, a small fan on the van's dash providing a slight breeze from the warm desert sun.

A silence had fallen over them, the only sound coming from the radio and the rush of wind through the open window. It wasn't an awkward silence, but the longer it stretched the more it left Santana's mind to wander, which wasn't something she wanted.

Sitting up, she leant forward a little, watching Quinn drum out a beat on the steering wheel. "So, why Disney World?"

"Because it's the happiest place on earth," Quinn jested.

Santana looked up to see that cheeky glint in the rear-view, her heart skipping a little at the sight. She bit her lip, trying to hide elation while Rachel's face lit up at her friend's words. The girl let out a giggle as she shoved Quinn in the shoulder. But Quinn didn't seem fazed.

"It was a graduation present from my dads," Rachel explained, turning her eyes to Santana, before she seemed to backtrack. "Well, actually they bought us plane tickets to LA for the summer before we both head off to college. You know, see Hollywood and Rodeo Drive, Universal Studios. But it wasn't as glamorous as I thought would be."

"So you're going to Florida?" Santana asked. "Isn't that where people like, go to die?"

Both girls laughed, Rachel leaning her head back down on the seat and looking at Santana with a wide grin.

"It was my idea," Quinn digressed after a moment. "I still wanted to have one final farewell before we left for different colleges-"

"NYADA, Yale," Rachel boasted, gesturing between them.

"_So_," Quinn enunciated, playfully glaring at her best friend. "We pooled all our spending money and used it to buy the van from some hippie down on Santa Monica Pier."

Santana nodded thoughtfully, thinking back to a time when her future held high hopes of an Ivy League education as well. She would've gone to Columbia Medical School and followed in her father's footsteps, or even Harvard Law. She would have spent the summer at the beach with her friends before the start of semester too. But then first term of senior year her Abuela got sick and everything changed.

From there it was appointment after appointment. All the while her condition spiralled, friends were lost, family shut out, colleges neglected. She didn't blame her grandmother for her lack of a future; she wouldn't have changed anything given the chance. But it did alienate her from everyone. Her friends tried getting through to her, but there was a point when they just let her drift away. She didn't walk at graduation, instead spending it in a hospital surrounded by nurses and ventilators while her classmates moved on to bigger and brighter things.

"Oh, and check this out," Rachel chirped, breaking Santana out of her momentary reverie. Her excitement was tangible. She ducked down, fishing around for something out of view.

Santana found it hard to not find the girl adorable, that grin not leaving Rachel's face as she straightened up, a folded piece of paper in her right hand. The page crinkled dryly as she opened it and held it up so Santana could see numbered writing dotted down the white page.

"Quinn wrote me this bucket list of all the things I have to do before college starts," Rachel sighed, Santana hearing the eye roll clear in her voice. "According to her I have as much world experience as a baby bird."

"What?" Quinn said, feigning innocence. "I didn't want you to be the ugly duckling amongst the swans."

"How poetic," Rachel deadpanned. "You just didn't want me to experience anything without you."

"True, and speaking of." Rachel's smile didn't fade as Quinn leant forward and grabbed her purse off the dash, her left hand still on the wheel. She flicked it open and pulled out something the size of a credit card, before discarding the purse on the seat next to her. "First one on the list, Rach." She held up the laminated card between her fingertips, waiting for Rachel to pluck it from her hand. "Fake ID."

The girl took it and flipped it over in her palm. There was a look of slight trepidation on her face as she eyed the card in her hands. Santana got the distinct impression that Rachel might not have had the biggest input in the writing of the list by the way she nervously skimmed over the small black print.

"What kind of name is Rye?" Rachel retorted, her eyes on the ID. "Rye Zand? Did you really have to give me such a Jewish name, Quinn?"

Rachel looked up from her palm and eyed Quinn accusingly. The girl just grinned at her with raised eyebrows, flicking her gaze to the road every few seconds. Rachel continued to look at her in confusion, then back down to the card.

"Rye Zand?" Rachel mumbled to herself, before a light bulb seemed to go off. "Oh, Ryezand. Streisand. You're _so_ funny." Her voice was thick with dry sarcasm, Quinn giggling at her friend who just rolled her eyes.

"Have to get my kicks somewhere, might as well be at your expense," Quinn shrugged. Santana guessed the name was some kind of inside joke between the two friends. Rachel looked back down at her lap, Santana hearing the click of a pen and the crinkle of paper.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked, taking her eyes off the road.

"Crossing it off?" Rachel said as if it was obvious, though it was voiced as more of a question.

"Nuh-uh. You've got to use it first, Rach."

* * *

><p>She made her way across the crowded parking lot. The thick soles of her boots clicked against the dry bitumen, Santana's hands deep in her worn leather jacket. Rachel and Quinn were a few paces ahead, the two of them chatting in low voices as cars and trucks pulled into vacant spaces, and people queued at the front entrance.<p>

Santana could hear the faint music thudding out into the night air, the red neon signs in the bar's windows glowing brightly as they neared the bouncer manning the door. He was at least six foot, and had his arms folded across his broad chest. He was waving people forward and checking their IDs, eyeing each of them before letting them pass.

They were just about to join the back of the line when Quinn spun around. "Oh shit, are you-"

Santana held up her ID, cutting Quinn's words short, "Not a saint, remember?"

Quinn just smirked in response, Rachel shooting her a nervous smile. They turned back around, Rachel bouncing on the balls of her feet. She had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, Santana not sure if it was from the slight breeze, or if the girl was just anxious. She found it somewhat endearing either way, Santana biting her bottom lip when Rachel's eyes flicked back, catching her staring.

Rachel had huffed at the suggestion of going to a bar earlier that day. She had pointlessly argued the conditions of the list, as Quinn just shook her head and continued her search for the closest sports bar or saloon.

It was daylight when they had arrived, Rachel keeping an adorable pout on her lips the whole time while Quinn pulled into an old motel just across the street. It wasn't much, just a double and a single squashed into the small space with a shower tucked neatly in back, the girls taking turns as soon as they dumped their duffle bags down on the carpeted floor. And in the few minutes Santana was alone with them she began to realize just how different the two friends really were.

Quinn was outgoing, and spontaneous, and stunningly beautiful, Santana gathering as much from the diner earlier that day. But she also found she had this maturity that went beyond the average 18 year old. Santana was mesmerized by her as she lay on the double bed next to her while her friend was getting ready. She didn't talk about Yale, or even Rachel; she just talked. It was unusually calming, Santana wanting to just shut her eyes and listen to her voice for hours.

But Rachel was much more reserved, and had this innocent beauty that her friend didn't. She also talked a bit more than was needed, Santana already knowing her college plans and Broadway dreams before Quinn had even gotten out of the shower. But it just seemed to draw Santana to the girl even more. Rachel made no apologies or excuses for who she was and what she wanted.

_And then there's me-_

"ID," the bouncer barked abruptly in a flat monotone, making Rachel jump a little. Santana tried to hold in her laughter as the girls shuffled forward, Quinn going first as she flashed him that smile. He looked up under his heavy brow, Quinn remaining nonchalant until he handed it back and waved her through.

Santana could hear the clinking of glasses and cheering coming from the open bar door Quinn had just disappeared behind, the smell of stale beer getting stronger the closer she came. She made another step forward, Rachel taking a calming breath before handing over her fake ID. She attempted to keep her expression natural, Santana doing her best not to laugh. But the face Rachel was pulling was making it difficult, and Quinn seemed to agree, poking her head back outside before covering her mouth and ducking back in.

The bouncer seemed to take his time, alternating between scrutinizing the card and side eyeing Rachel's arguably pained expression. But after a moment he handed it back and waved her on.

As soon as she was out of his line of sight, Rachel spun on her heel,_ "Oh my God,"_ she mouthed silently. Santana forced herself not to react as she passed her ID to the burly security guard.

She wasn't paying much attention to the exchange, her eyes on the two girls who appeared to be in hysterics; or at least Quinn was. Rachel just seemed to be in shock, her eyes wide as they disappeared through the door.

The man gave her ID back a few seconds later, already moving onto the next in line. Santana pocketed it and walked through the entrance, the warmer air hitting the exposed skin of her neck. She found her friends just inside, Rachel holding Quinn up as she wiped at her eyes, her infectious laughter filling the air around them.

Quinn straightened up when she saw Santana approaching, taking in a deep breath. "_Now_ you can cross it off."

* * *

><p>"How are you two even friends?" Santana asked suddenly, her eyes on Quinn standing at the long bar. The girl was dancing on the spot while she waited to be served. "You honestly couldn't be more different."<p>

They'd been sitting at the circular booth for over an hour, Quinn getting up to buy another round, leaving Rachel and Santana by themselves. It was seedy and dark, the only light coming from the down lights over the bar, and the neon advertisements for beer in the windows. There was a jukebox in the corner, a crowd already dancing to nameless classic rock.

Santana could just hear the dull clinking coming from the pool tables as she moved closer to Rachel on the seat, their arms brushing lightly. Rachel released her straw and let it fall back into the empty glass, shaking her head softly. "You're not the first person to ask," she smiled, looking up through her long lashes. "I'm not really sure how it happened, to be honest. We met first day of ninth grade, and have been close ever since. She joined cheerleading, whereas I-"

"Joined Glee Club, and has been my sneaky hot best friend ever since."

Santana and Rachel shifted apart, startled by the sudden intrusion. Quinn had saddled up beside them, carrying their drinks with both hands. But the girl didn't take note of the pair as she sat down next to Santana with an exaggerated huff. She removed the drinks from the round black tray she'd been holding, before taking a sip of her Vodka and Lime Soda, pushing the other two drinks further onto the table.

"_Sneaky_ hot?" Santana asked, taking a sip of her bourbon. Rachel had already latched herself onto her next cocktail, her cheeks burning.

"Have you seen her ass?" Quinn shot back. "I'd _kill _for an ass like that."

Santana's eyes switched to Rachel, the girl chewing on her straw as she played idly with a napkin. Santana would be lying if she said she hadn't noticed. The tiny denim shorts she'd been wearing left very little to the imagination. And she'd also be lying if she said she hadn't caught herself staring in the motel room earlier that afternoon. But as she watched her now she could see the attention was making Rachel self-conscious.

"You okay?" Santana whispered, close to her ear.

Rachel broke out into a shy smile, before rolling her eyes. "It's fine," she murmured, only loud enough for Santana to hear. "She means well."

Santana nudged her, taking a mouthful of her drink while she listened to the music that played on the jukebox in the corner. The current song was on its last legs, Quinn's attention on the throngs of people dancing just a few feet away.

It tapered off after a minute, Lynyrd Skynyrd filling the room only a beat after. With a cheer, Quinn jumped up from the booth and joined the crowd on the dance floor. Santana watched her as she spun a few times, a carefree expression lighting her features. The girl's movements were fluid and effortless, Santana finding that she couldn't tear her eyes away. Not that she wanted to.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Rachel mused.

"Yeah," Santana breathed. Quinn was watching them both for across the room. Santana's heart stuttered when the girl began to beckon them playfully to the dance floor.

Taking a shaky breath, she finished off her drink and placed it down on the worn table top, before standing up from the booth. Santana didn't get more than two feet, before turning to see Rachel not having moved an inch. "Aren't you coming?" she asked, motioning towards the dance floor.

Santana could feel the music vibrating through the wooden floorboards beneath her feet as she waited for her to answer, but Rachel simply shook her head with a smile. "You go," she assured her, waving her off.

Santana was about to argue when two arms wrapped around her waist from behind. She could feel Quinn pulling her backwards, Santana laughing and turning in the embrace after a few stumbled paces. She had that smile on her face again, making Santana slightly breathless as she dragged her to the middle of the floor. Quinn took her by the hand and spun her, the music drowning out their laughter.

Dancing with Quinn had Santana forgetting about everything that had happened this past year. It was all still in the back of her mind, but that's where it stayed, drowned out by the girl's infectious smile and carefree manner. She knew she should be dealing with everything, but right now it felt amazing to just let go and not think.

The song changed again after a minute, another with a bit more bass coming over the speakers. Quinn tugged on their hands and moved in closer until there were only a few inches separating them. Santana's heart rate picked up as they kept their eyes on each other. The way Quinn was looking at her was making her stomach drop, those hands moving down to her hips. They rested just above the top of her jeans, Quinn's fingertips brushing her soft skin and making her suppress shiver. Santana could see Quinn chuckle to herself, pulling in even closer, feeling those fingers dig into her hips.

Her skin felt flushed, unsure if it was from the alcohol or just the effect the girl was having on her. All thought of her grandmother and her family, of Rachel, completely cleared from her mind. She swallowed heavily, Quinn turning her back, Santana's hands unconsciously settling on the girl's hips. They felt amazing under her touch, making her head swim even further.

Everything was getting all too hot, her skin burning. But Quinn didn't let up, pulling Santana's hands further down until they rested on her thighs, the denim rough against her fingertips. She needed air, the atmosphere around them thick and heady. But before she could do or say anything the song faded out, the crowd erupting into cheers around her.

Quinn spun abruptly out of her arms as the next song started. It was an old country song, a few suddenly breaking into an impromptu line dance. But Santana kept her eyes on Quinn, her pupils slightly dilated and dazed. She still had her right hand loosely in Santana's as she leant in. Santana took in a sharp breath, but Quinn only moved to her ear, whispering that she needed to use the restroom, before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

"What the fuck just happened?"

* * *

><p>The coloured balls scattered, bouncing off the green felt. They bunched together across the table, Santana jumping off her bar stool in the corner and brushing past Quinn, pool cue in hand. Quinn giggled as she turned and began shadowing Santana, leaving her own stick by their booth. Rachel was sitting down on the red vinyl seat, taking a sip of her umpteenth cocktail, content to just watch the other two play.<p>

Santana could feel Quinn just behind her as she leant down and lined up her shot. Her hand gripped the cue tighter, Quinn leaning against the side of the table, right in her line of view. She knew what the girl was trying to do, and as much as she didn't want it to, it was working. Her gaze flicked to Quinn every few seconds, those playful hazel eyes watching her carefully. It was completely distracting, the girl lazily shifting her gaze down to the dip in Santana's low cut singlet, then back up.

_Just kill me now._

Santana took a deep breath, running the cue back and forth across her fingers, trying to shut her out. She was just about to gently nudge the white ball into the purple four near the corner pocket when the light brush of fingertips connected to the crease of her outstretched arm, her elbow buckling.

"Goddammit." Santana dropped her head to the table, laughing in frustration as the white ball slammed into the side bar and sunk into the opposite pocket.

"Oops," Quinn chirped, skipping back to grab her cue from where she left it. She took a mouthful of vodka, before returning to the pool table to take her next two shots.

"There has _got_ be some kind of rule against this," Santana groaned, walking over to the booth and sitting down next to Rachel with a huff. "That's the third frickin' time tonight."

"What can I say?" Quinn hummed as she bent down. "I was never a big advocate of rules."

"You should have seen her senior year," Rachel chimed in, her words slurring gently. "She dyed her hair pink and got some very questionable piercings after her-"

"Rach!" Quinn hissed from across the room. Rachel shut her mouth with a snap, Santana looking over at Quinn who had pulled up from the table, her eyes distant and unreadable. Santana knew that look; she saw it every time she looked in a mirror.

_Shit._

Quinn cleared her throat and leant back down, sinking one of her balls and walking to the other side of the table. Santana turned back to Rachel who had begun toying with her folded list. She could feel the tension radiating off the two girls, but knew better than to ask.

"Show you mine," Santana jested, trying to break the awkward silence. From the corner of her eye she saw Quinn look at her with a sad smile on her lips, before going back to taking her shot.

Rachel looked up from her drink in confusion. Santana nervously dipped into the front pocket of her jeans, pulling out her grandmother's letter. She hadn't planned on showing it to anyone, let alone an almost stranger. But now felt a good a time as any, and Rachel was smart, maybe she would see something Santana couldn't.

A smile stretched across Rachel's lips as she plucked the note from Santana's fingertips and handed over her list in exchange. Santana unfolded the piece of paper and began skimming down the page, keeping a close eye on the girl's reaction to her own note. Her expression was unreadable, Santana sighing and continuing to read the list.

The list was everything Rachel wasn't. She could see why she was nervous about completing it, even though Santana could easily cross off most of the items with her colourful high school experience alone. Just by spending the day with her, she could tell it wasn't going to be easy on Rachel, especially if she felt pressured by Quinn to do them.

"Why do I get the feeling this one was you're idea?" Santana teased, pointing to the last one that read _Go to Disney World_.

"It wasn't my suggestion," she countered, leaning in closer and pointing at the white page. "The weed and the tattoo were mine." Santana looked at her in surprise, completely misjudging the girl sitting next to her.

"Santana, you're up," Quinn called from the stool on the other side of the pool table.

"Coming."

Rachel folded her note and handed it back to her wordlessly. Santana did the same, before getting up and grabbing her cue. She took a few steps, before she spun back around, Rachel's eyes focusing on her again.

"I could help with the weed," Santana offered. "If you want."

Rachel laughed, nodding to herself. "You too," she replied with shy smirk. Santana cocked her eyebrow in confusion, Rachel swallowing nervously before speaking again. "With yours, I mean."

Santana breath hitched at her words. Rachel bit her lip and went back to her drink, Santana turning to take her shot, slightly dazed. Her mind went back over the note in her pocket as she leant down over the table.

_She wants to help me find myself…holy shit._

* * *

><p>Santana gripped the metal chains with both hands, using her feet to gently push the swing into motion. The night was cool and dark, the only artificial light coming from a tall street lamp to her right, the bulb flickering in the moonlight.<p>

She sat on the small seat as the slight breeze picked up her long hair and blew it around her face. She breathed in the night air, trying to clear her head. But her thoughts swirled and wouldn't let up, the breeze doing little for her.

She pulled her eyes up to the dim lights of the motel in the distance. Santana had left the other two girls at the room 15 minutes ago, wandering off down the street until she'd reached an empty playground a block away. She told them she was just going to call her dad before they turned in for the night, but in truth she just need some space to think.

She'd left her parents that morning in hope that she would've spent the time it took her to get back home figuring out her life and trying to heal from the loss of her grandmother. And a part of her still was, even though it seemed hopeless and redundant at this point. But ever since she walked into that diner, her mind hadn't strayed far from the two girls currently back at the motel room. It usually wouldn't have been a problem for Santana, but something told her this wasn't exactly what her grandmother had in mind when she gave her that book.

_But since when is having fun a crime?_

"Hey you."

Santana looked up from her worn boots, that familiar soft voice meeting her ears. Quinn's eyes danced lowly in the limited light as she approached the swing set, her hands deep in her jacket pockets. She smiled at Santana, before taking a seat next to her.

"Hi," Santana mumbled as Quinn slowly swung back and forth.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the chirp of crickets and the squeak of the metal chains filling the void. Santana looked over to her just as a car drove past them, its taillights like two red eyes in the distance. Quinn took in a deep breath, looking out over the desert, the sand a bluish white in the moonlight.

"Where's Rachel?"

"She's just taking a shower. She has a bit of a routine she does before she goes to bed," Quinn told her, her feet dragging across the gravel and kicking up a small cloud of dust. Santana nodded thoughtfully, her eyes on the road as another car came and went.

"Hey, I hope I'm not crashing your farewell trip with Rachel or whatever, 'cause I can find another ride if-"

"Stop, don't be silly," Quinn dismissed. "I wouldn't have picked you up if I didn't want you here. Rachel too." Santana nodded, continuing to swing back and forth. "Look, I know she can be a bit over-bearing and excitable at times, but she's actually pretty great once you get to know her."

"I like her," Santana interjected with a soft smile. Quinn seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, mumbling an _okay_, her eyes not quite meeting hers. She kept her gaze on her lap as she swung absently.

Santana got the impression that she'd had to have this conversation with people before, her tone tired and pleading. She could see were Rachel's quirks might rub people the wrong way, and back in high school she might have been one of them. But recent events had made her envious of people like Rachel. Santana would give anything to have that same self-belief and honesty the girl had. And even though she would never admit it out loud, the petite girl was doing more than just growing on Santana.

"Well, I should get back," Quinn announced softly. "I didn't tell Rachel I was leaving."

"Okay, I'll be there in a bit."

Quinn nodded, getting up from the swing. She brushed off the back of her jeans and started back to the room, leaving a small trail of dust behind her.

"Thanks," Santana called after her, Quinn turning on her heel. "For this, I mean." She gestured to their general surroundings. "Or whatever."

Those hazel eyes narrowed for a moment, Quinn resting on the balls of her feet before making her way back over. Santana stayed slouched on the swing, her feet dragging against the dirt as she crossed the short distance between them.

Pulling her hands from her jacket, Quinn placed hers over Santana's on the chains; her palms warm against her fingers. Santana was about to question her when Quinn leaned in and pressed her full lips firmly against hers. Santana's lids fluttered closed at the touch, her words getting stuck in her throat. She felt the girl suck gently on her bottom lip, before she pulled away, Santana's eyes snapping open to see her retreating back.

"You're welcome," she threw over her shoulder, Santana staring after her breathless and wide-eyed.


	3. Where The Lines Overlap

**Chapter 3: Where The Lines Overlap**

Her eyes fluttered open, the early morning sun breaking through the thin curtains. The blinding light had caught the sheer material that billowed in the slight breeze, Santana groaning mutely and rolling over, stretching her arms out over the white cotton sheets. She let a content sigh escape as they cooled her heated skin. It was soothing, and it alleviated the dull headache that had started just behind her eyes.

As her body began to wake, her mind flitted over the memories of the night before; from Rachel's shy eyes after she'd read her letter and the dark crowded bar, to Quinn's honey sweet voice, and the memory of their kiss and of those lips. Santana laughed humourlessly at the last of the vivid images, and pushed herself up off the mattress.

She could hear soft snoring from the next bed over, the two girls still deep within its covers. Quinn had her arm draped loosely over Rachel's waist; both of them huddled together despite the warm breeze coming off the miles of sand and rock outside their window.

Santana sat up awkwardly and checked her watch, the hour hand just reaching seven. It was still early by her standards, but she was already too restless to find sleep. So she swallowed dryly and rubbed at her eyes, her bare feet hitting the rough carpet. She took one last glance at the still sleeping girls, before grabbing her fresh pack of Malboros from inside her leather jacket and padding silently across the room.

The desert heat hit her as soon as she opened the door, the world outside just waking up as well. Cars and trucks passed the small bed and breakfast, the sound of airbrakes and the distant cawing of birds meeting her ears as she clicked her metal lighter and brought a cigarette to her lips.

She breathed in deeply and took a seat on the hard plastic chair just underneath the window. She slowly exhaled the white smoke; the instant hit clearing her mind. Her thoughts of the previous night had only dimmed when she finally found sleep in the earlier hours. She'd lain awake, listening to the local traffic and replaying that kiss, over and over. She didn't know what it meant, or why Quinn did it. It was unprovoked and unlabelled. It was a mystery, just like Quinn. But it was soft and innocent, and it sent a low tightening to her stomach at just the thought of those lips.

Santana knew she was overthinking it, but it didn't stop the thoughts that nagged at her already aching head. And with everything that had happened, she didn't need something like this weighing down on her. She was meant to be healing, and grieving, and moving on, not kissing strangers.

But what did that mean; what constituted as healing in this situation? Was she meant to sit in a circle singing _Kumbaya_, or talk about her feelings like others would know what she was going through; that wasn't her. And she didn't think it would help. No, Santana would dwell on the bad until it consumed her, and she lashed out or checked out in the process. Which probably explained her parents' willingness, or rather defeat, at letting her go. They knew that dragging her back, kicking and screaming wasn't the solution, and would only succeed in creating more distance between them.

Santana could just imagine the two of them coming home to an empty house. But being so closed off this pass year, it wouldn't have made much difference if she were there or not. It would have been the same silence, and the same void.

Santana released the third puff on her cigarette, her mouth turning down at the taste but needing the clarity. She placed it in the ashtray to her left and ran her fingers through her messy hair, before pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. Her throat began to constrict uncomfortably as she thought about what her grandmother would say to her if she were here now, of the words of wisdom she would share. Santana knew there would be disappointment lacing her tone at her choices, and that she would have only shared enough to show her the start of the path, and not the end. But she just felt so lost and helpless that she couldn't even see the first brick, let alone the path; she needed saving.

Santana felt hot tears sting the corners of her eyes, her jaw clenching painfully. She could also feel the choking sob that was starting in the back of her throat, fighting its way to the surface. It had her needing her palms deeper into her eyes, and had her head hanging lower.

"Good morning."

Santana's head shot up at the sound of Rachel's voice. She wiped roughly at her flushed cheeks as the girl wandered over to the spare seat opposite.

Taking in a sharp breath, Santana composed herself as best she could before responding. "Hey," she croaked, clearing her throat.

Rachel gave her a sweet smile in response, settling into the hard plastic and bringing her knees up to her chin. She regarded her with a cautionary glance, probably noting Santana's redden eyes, before turning her gaze to the dusty road.

Santana licked absently at her dry lips, her eyes wandering down to the tiny bed shorts Rachel had on that had ridden up her tanned thighs, her mind taking a very different path. She looked away after a moment, concentrating on the faded asphalt in front of them, trying to rid her mind of those kinds of thoughts. Instead she watched as a man, not unlike Bill, hopped into the cab of his truck at the gas station opposite, his engine roaring to life a few seconds later.

"I didn't know you smoked."

Santana looked back at her, Rachel watching her with those kind eyes. She shrugged indifferently, grabbing the still burning cigarette and stubbing it out in the tray. "I started when my Abuela got sick, and never really stopped."

"We all have our vices, I suppose," Rachel said cheerfully, and without judgment. She was still resting her chin on the top of her knees with her hair in their loose braids. They made her appear almost childlike, and it brought odd warmth to Santana's chest.

Santana couldn't help but feel comfortable around Rachel, her presence calming. "More of a bad habit," Santana told her, smiling back at her. "You?"

"I don't know," she half-shrugged, biting at her bottom lip shyly. "Chocolate cake."

"That's not a vice," Santana laughed, sitting forward and angling herself toward her. "A vice is more like drugs or sex. Like an addiction," she trailed off, watching her carefully.

"Chocolate cake," Rachel murmured in low serious voice, before a grin cracked her façade. Santana laughed with her, pulling her legs further underneath her chair. "I don't know, I guess I don't have one yet," she edged. The intense look in Rachel's eyes sent a slight chill down Santana's back despite the heat. She bit at her lip and shifted under the gaze, Rachel looking away shyly once more.

"I should probably go wake Quinn," Rachel intoned, before getting up from her chair, Santana merely nodding. "I'm going to take these too," she said, grabbing the full pack of cigarettes from the table between them.

"Am I gonna get 'em back?"

"Nope," Rachel giggled with a small shake of her head, before disappearing back through the door. She shut it with a dull click, Santana staring after her in awe.

"Wow."

* * *

><p>"I'll be right back." Quinn just nodded absently. The motel owner left the two girls alone in the front room, ducking through the beaded door curtain at his back, and began to rifle through paperwork in his small office.<p>

Quinn leant forward, placing her elbows against the counter, and let her eyes wander the photo frames hanging on the surrounding walls. Santana watched her for a moment, before turning around and resting her back against the desk, spotting Rachel through the clouded glass window packing the van just outside.

Santana hadn't waited long after Rachel left before following her back inside, the girl already in the bathroom, the sound of running water reaching her ears. Quinn was awake as well, smiling lazily at her as Santana sat down on the edge of her mattress. Quinn had mumbled _good morning_, her voice husky and still full of sleep, but it was honestly one of the sexiest things Santana had ever heard, clearing her throat when her thoughts started to wander.

Her mind was still on what happened between them the night before, though Quinn didn't look fazed in the slightest, continuing to look over at her every few moments while she waited for the shower to be free. And even now she seemed to be pretending like nothing had happened, and that she hadn't just attacked Santana with her lips less than nine hours ago.

Santana let a sigh escape, continuing to watch Rachel pack their bags into the Kombi van. Or rather was haphazardly lobbing them over the wide backseat, paying no mind as to where they landed. She'd already thrown one, when the second seemed to catch on the small lava lamp, sending a faint crack into the morning air. Rachel appeared to huff dramatically, before climbing into the back to clean up her new mess. Santana chuckled, shifting her gaze back to her other friend. But her breath caught when her eyes were met with smooth olive skin, Quinn bending over to peer at the guest book that lay open behind the counter.

Santana's eyes began to unconsciously trail over her tiny denim shorts, Quinn's loose tank riding further up, revealing the start of a tattoo on the small of her back. Santana bit down on the inside of her cheek, her hands burying deeper into the pockets of her jean shorts.

_Holy sweet hell._

"Can I ask you something?" Santana blurted, shaking her head softly when Quinn jumped back down from the desk and spun to face her.

"Sure," she chirped. "What's up?"

"Last night," Santana muttered, her mind going back to those lips as a slight flush began to creep up her neck. "Was what, exactly?"

"It was fun," she answered with an effortless smirk, not missing a beat, her eyes going back to the beaded curtain behind the front counter.

Santana raised an eyebrow at her completely blasé response, "_Fun?_"

"You looked like a good kisser," she stated with a half shrug, glancing back at her. "I was curious."

"Right," Santana mumbled, slightly deflated at her answer. She tried her best to keep it from her tone, turning around to pace the length of the small foyer.

Her eyes flicked over the wood panelling, and over to the tourist pamphlets in a turnstile near the glass sliding door. She had to admit a part of her was hoping that Quinn had kissed her for more than just her own curiosity and amusement. But she knew she'd been overthinking it. And she quietly reminded herself that this was a good thing, that it being meaningless meant that it wasn't complicated or awkward.

_It was just a bit of fun._

_No big deal._

"Sign here please."

Santana turned around to find the man had returned, Quinn already scribbling on the offered form. The girl unclicked the ballpoint pen and handed back the paperwork with a smile, "Thanks."

"Drive safe, girls," he bade, his head already in the logbook.

"Let's go," Quinn said, looping her arm gently through Santana's as she walked past. "Rach is probably waiting, and I'm starved."

* * *

><p>Santana took a tentative sip of her coffee, watching Quinn place the finishing touches to the miniature waffle house. She had a carefree edge to her lips as she grabbed the pitcher to her left and gently poured the golden syrup over the makeshift roof. It dripped from the awning and pooled on the white plate, Quinn giggling and licking her fingers.<p>

Santana was mesmerized, her attention on those hazel eyes as they lit up the girl's face, and on those fingers as they were brought to her lips. "Do you always do that?"

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked around a mouthful of her own coffee. The girl smiled at her, Santana sensing that it was the _always _that she was concerned with, and not the _what_.

Santana put her own cup down and regarded her for a moment, "I saw you make one at the diner yesterday, out by route 60."

Rachel looked up at this, switching her gaze between the pair. She was sitting beside Quinn against the wall of their booth, a road map spread across the table in front of her. She held a tight-lipped smile, before her eyes found the counter top again.

"Yeah, I do," Quinn told her, with a wistful look. "Ever since I was a kid."

Santana noticed a small flicker of sadness in her eyes just before she picked up her fork. Quirking an eyebrow, Santana tried to find it again, but it was gone as soon as the girl brought a corner of the roof to her mouth. Santana continued to watch her closely, Quinn cutting another slice of the house and chewing, keeping her eyes on her food.

"We could always go through Phoenix?" Rachel piped up, interrupting them as she cleared her throat. She ran her hands over the map, and looked up with a grin, "We could go to a museum or something, _anything?_"

"I thought we were sticking to the back roads, avoiding capital cities," Quinn said, her eyes now on Santana as she took another bite. They were a clear hazel, with no trace of their previous sadness. But they were also intense, and had her thinking back to the dance floor the night before; of when they were trained on her, the girl's body flush against hers.

A playful smirk appeared on Quinn's lips just as Rachel spoke up again. "We don't have to avoid _all_ of them. I seriously can't stare at dirt and desert this whole trip," she retorted. "Pretty sure I'll develop kenophobia soon if I have to look at one more rock."

Quinn just laughed at her friend, dislodging the waffle door and throwing it in her direction. Rachel scoffed as maple syrup streaked across her map and landed somewhere in the Atlantic. "Wow. Thanks, Quinn," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

"No problem, sweetie," she teased, before she stood up from the faded vinyl seat. "I gotta pee. I'll be right back." Quinn slipped out of the booth and made her way to the restrooms opposite the kitchen, the heavy door swinging shut behind her.

As soon as she disappeared, Santana turned to Rachel who was rubbing a napkin over the sticky spot on her map, her brow furrowed in concentration. "So, what's up with Quinn?" Santana asked, trying to keep her voice light.

"How do you mean?" Rachel replied, taking a mouthful of orange juice and regarding her fully.

"I don't know," Santana shrugged, unsure of how to word her question. "She seems…_fun_, like she doesn't let anything get to her."

She hoped that Rachel didn't ask her why she wanted to know, or even what she meant by the word _fun_ as she didn't quite know herself. And she also didn't want to have to go into the details of their night after they'd left the bar. But Rachel didn't seem all that fazed, shaking her head softly, "That's just Quinn. She's always had no problem with the physical stuff, but as soon as emotions get involved she tends to close herself off, distance herself from it. Why's that?"

_She kissed me, and now I'm trying to convince myself it didn't mean anything._

"No, no reason."

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>I still don't understand," Eddie whispered. "What came from your death?"<strong>_

"_**You lived," the Blue Man answered.**_

"_**But we barely knew each other. I might as well have been a stranger."**_

_**The Blue Man put his arms on Eddie's shoulders. Eddie felt that warm, melting sensation.**_

"_**Strangers," the Blue Man said, "are just family you have yet to come to know-**_

"Virginia!"

Santana eyes shot up from the worn pages at the sound of Rachel's voice. The girl was beaming as she faced her best friend from the passenger seat, a triumphant expression painting her features, and a piece of crinkled paper in her hand.

"Are you blind?" Quinn retorted, flicking her gaze to the tiny girl. "That was _clearly_ Pennsylvania."

"I think I can read a number plate, Quinn," Rachel dismissed indignantly.

Santana watched as the girl began to mark down her new find, Rachel clicking her pen and scratching it across the small bit of paper. Santana had been listening to the pair ever since they left the bed and breakfast over an hour ago, the two naming off the registrations of passing cars as they drove the long stretch of bare highway, one of them calling out a state every few miles. Santana had to admit that it was actually rather amusing, stifling a giggle at the two every so often.

The best friends continued to bicker as they both tried to complete their list, the two of them in their own world. "Obviously not, _Rachel_," Quinn intoned, taking her eyes off the road. "Don't cross it off, it doesn't count!"

"Yes, it does!" Rachel insisted, dodging out of the way of Quinn's right hand when she attempted to grab her pen, the van teetering slightly.

"It was Pennsylvania."

Both turned their eyes to the backseat, Rachel's mouth popping open just as Quinn began to smirk. "Thank you," she sighed happily. "I knew we picked you up for a reason."

"What is this, two against one now?" Rachel huffed, throwing her hands up and turning to Santana. "Besides, you were reading. It could have been an _Ohio _number plate for all you know."

"Sorry, Rach," Quinn quipped with a satisfied air in her tone, completely dismissing her rebuttal. "The jury has spoken."

"Whatever," Rachel grumbled, turning to face the dashboard. She crossed her arms across her chest, and kept her eyes on the road and firmly away from the rear-view.

Santana felt a pang of momentary guilt, though it faded instantly when she saw that pout on Rachel's lips. She knew it wasn't very fair of her to interfere in their little game. And if truth were told it could've well been a Virginian plate for all she saw. But there was something about Rachel's pout that brought an uncontrollable smile to Santana's lips, that jutting bottom lip sending a strange warmth to her chest, one she hadn't felt in what seemed like years. So it was safe to say that her intervening might have had an ulterior motive behind it.

_Whatever, she's adorable._ _Sue me._

"So, what's next on your list?" Santana leant her chin against the front seat, her eyes finding Rachel.

The tiny girl glanced at her, trying to keep that smile from appearing, her teeth pressing gently into her bottom lip. But her thin façade fell once Santana nudged her playfully, it breaking free from those lips as she just shook her head in defeat.

"I don't know," she mumbled, her shoulders pulling up coyly.

"We could always straddle state lines?" Quinn suggested, gaining Santana's attention. "The California Arizona line is coming up in a few minutes."

"Sure," Rachel shrugged again, finally smiling at Santana. "That sounds relatively risk free."

* * *

><p>"No way."<p>

"Come on, it's only like fifty feet."

"Try a _hundred_ and fifty, with a forty foot drop," Rachel exclaimed in disbelief. "It's like the length of a football field, Quinn."

"For what?" Quinn laughed. "The little leagues?"

Rachel just scoffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest. The midmorning sun was getting higher in the cloudless sky, Santana checking her watch as it shined brightly in her eyes. They'd parked their van outside an abandoned building in the small town of Parker, just off the highway, all three ducking through a broken chain link fence and up onto a set of rusted train tracks that stretched across the Colorado River, dividing both states.

It was rather eerie from a top the slight hill, the smell of dead grass in the air, and the distant sound of a metal gate swinging on its hinges coming from somewhere behind them. Santana looked back down the slope to their left, the highway traffic going steadily past. She was standing off to the side next to Quinn on the lip of the tracks, Rachel a little way up, her heels dug firmly into the dry gravel that surrounded the discoloured metal, refusing to go any further. She had that pout on her lips again, Santana trying to hide her pleasure at the sight of it, but failed miserably.

"And besides we already stopped halfway across the bridge for a good thirty seconds," Rachel reasoned. "It's crossed off, okay?"

Quinn just rolled her eyes dramatically and turned to Santana, letting a sigh escape her perfect lips. Arguably, she was lucky to have gotten Rachel this far, refusing to even hop out of the car as soon as she saw the foreboding barbwire fence surrounding the railway tracks, and the faded warning signs hanging from its links.

"Okay, just go to where the hill begins to dip," Quinn edged in a reassuring tone as she looked back at Rachel, before her voice turned teasing. "That way there's more than enough time to run for your life if a train comes."

"I hate you," Rachel sulked, turning and continuing to wander the length of the tracks.

"Love you, too."

Rachel waved her off dismissively as she slowly made her way closer to the start of the bridge, the girl getting smaller the further she walked. It left Santana alone with Quinn, Santana turning her eyes on her as she fiddled absently with the settings on her digital camera.

"Why make her do this list?" Santana asked out of curiosity, slipping her aviators to the top of her head. "She doesn't seem all that into it."

Quinn looked up from the tiny LCD screen. She regarded her with those almond eyes for a moment, seeming to decide on her words carefully. "When we were in high school, I was always there when the older kids would pick on her," Quinn began, her tone thoughtful. "But now we're going to be in different places when term starts, and I'm not going to be there anymore. I'd hate to think that she shied away from opportunities at college just because she was afraid." Quinn took in a breath and turned her eyes back to Rachel before continuing, her voice almost wistful. "And in a way I guess I'm doing it for me too, to give myself piece of mind so I'm not spending my freshman year worried about her. I mean look at her, she's so little."

Santana looked up to find Rachel still walking at a snail pace, her arms out as she dawdled along the metal tracks. "No, I get it. I was the same with my ex," Santana offered, her mind going back a year ago, to those blue eyes that just made her stomach sink uncomfortably as they ghosted past her lids. "Though she always seemed to be the one making the first leap."

She caught Quinn's gaze as she said the words, the girl looking back at her with a genuine smile. Santana was unsure if it was the _she_ that made her bit her lip, or whether it was something else entirely. And the look in her hazel eyes was making Santana's heart hammer faster just beneath her thin singlet. It had her looking away and out over the river in front of them, her hands going for her pockets.

"So, why did you guys break-up?" Quinn asked, cutting through the tense silence that had began between them.

Santana thought back to that time. It was a few months after her grandmother was diagnosed. She remembered the blonde sitting across from her in that empty classroom, her hand resting gently on hers. Santana barely registered the soft strokes her then girlfriend was giving to the back of it as she proceeded to break her heart. She shook her head out of the memory, and cleared her throat quietly.

"I stopped leaping," Santana mused softly, giving Quinn a sad smile. Quinn's face fell slightly, her hand instinctually reaching out to brush the skin of Santana's arm.

She was only inches from her when they were both pulled out by the sound of Rachel's loud, yet distant voice. "Is this far enough?"

"That's perfect!" Quinn yelled back, not taking her eyes off Santana. They stayed like that for a moment longer, before Quinn spun and took the photo.

* * *

><p>She let the cool water hit her heated skin, and drip to the light green tiles under foot. It was calming, clearing her mind of all thoughts, including the ones she'd rather not be thinking of; those of her Abuela and of the past year. Of the friends she'd lost, and the relationships that had been severed back home. She'd like to think that she hadn't changed from the person she used to be, but she knew she no longer had that sense of adventure and that life in her that she used to have, and she knew it was the reason people distanced themselves from her in the end.<p>

_I'm just not that girl anymore._

Santana ran her fingertips down the smooth shower wall, feeling the ridges between each tile. She turned to face the clear glass, combing her fingers through her wet hair. She could hear the two girls outside, their laughter reaching her through the crack underneath the closed bathroom door, along with the low hum of the TV, the sound strangely as calming as the water hitting her back. Santana let a content sigh fall from her lips as she shut her eyes against the gentle spray, letting her body relax.

It wasn't long after they'd crossed into Arizona when they'd decided to take Rachel's suggestion and head toward the capital, booking into a roadside motel on the outskirts of town. Phoenix, or at least the limited parts Santana had seen, was beautiful, in its own way. They hadn't ventured too far into the city, sticking to less built-up areas. Tall palms and cacti lined the streets, with small shrubs dusting the miles of sand and desert surrounding the concrete high-rises, as rocky mountain peaks obscured the horizon in the distance.

As they neared the busy metropolis, signs began popping up every few miles for a travelling carnival that was having its last night at the Arizona State Fairgrounds. Rachel had turned to Quinn after the second billboard came and went, grinning expectantly at her. Quinn merely shrugged with a smile, not fazed either way, pulling into the first motel they'd come across as Rachel clapped excitedly from the passenger seat, Santana trying not to laugh at the endearing girl.

It was just after midday when they were settling into their room, Santana sitting beside Rachel on one of the two small beds, an iPod between them and not much else. The girl was playing her a song she'd mentioned on their three-hour trip into the city, that half smile on Rachel's lips as she hit play. Santana returned it, listening to the unfamiliar melody coming from the headphones she was sharing with her. Rachel was watching her the entire time, her eyes nervous yet excited at the same time. Her hands fiddled with the player, Rachel humming along softly to the lyrics.

The song was just getting into its third chorus when Quinn came back from the motel's reception, jumping on the end of their bed and startling both girls. Santana had pulled the tiny plug from her ear, and shuffled over slightly on the mattress. She saw Quinn's eyes dart between them for a moment, before that smile reappeared. Rachel had wound the white cord back around her iPod and placed it on the nightstand next to her, a nervous expression on her lips, her eyes not meeting either of them.

Santana bent down, retrieving her bottle of shampoo from the shower floor, her mind pulling out of the memory. She didn't know why she felt like she couldn't be close with Rachel, sit next to her or be within arm's reach. But every time Quinn was around them she found herself moving away, distancing herself from her. And it wasn't like she did the same with Quinn, if last night on the dance floor was any indication. Rachel had watched them practically the whole night, and she didn't feel the need to back off. She shouldn't be feeling guilty. Quinn had made it clear that it was just curiosity behind her actions. And besides, she hadn't done anything wrong with Rachel. It was innocent.

The bathroom door opened abruptly, startling Santana out of her thoughts. She stood frozen as Quinn appeared in the doorway. Both of Santana's hands were caught in her hair above her head mid-wash, as Quinn padded across the room to the small vanity, grabbing something from the counter. Santana didn't bother covering herself as she continued to stare at Quinn, her heart beating out of her chest.

"Sorry," Quinn muttered, gesturing to a bottle in her hand. "Just needed to grab my moisturizer."

"Oh-kay," Santana choked, still not moving an inch as her skin flushed hot under the cool water. She saw Quinn eye her briefly, noticing a tiny smirk on her lips through the glass of the shower, before she turned for the door.

"Nice ass," Quinn quipped, just as she closed it firmly behind her, Santana staring after her in complete shock.

_Christ._

* * *

><p>The red and blue lights of the fairgrounds shone brightly in hazel eyes, Santana watching them intently as they followed the fiberglass clown from left to right. Quinn had a small ball between her fingertips, holding it over the opening of its mouth as the sound of a rollercoaster screamed round the bend to their left. The laughter from the carriage full of teens drifted into the warm night air, mixing with the music pumping from a nearby sound system.<p>

Santana leant her back against the game station, as Quinn's face lit up with the surrounding lights, the girl dropping the ball down the disguised shoot. She kept watching her, expecting to find something behind those eyes, or in that smile. But she was a mystery of the best kind, Santana continuing to stare as she released yet another ball.

The two of them had just finished at the Haunted House, Rachel declining to join them, insisting that it was fine and that she'd just wait by one of the picnic tables out front. Both of them had merely nodded, entering the ticket line as deep foreboding laughter and a sharp crack of thunder came over the speakers, the red glowing eyes of the stone gargoyles stark against the dark night sky. Rachel had waved meekly at them from her spot at the table, her eyes on the tall spires above and the rather eerie rout iron gates of the attraction.

It wasn't long before they'd entered through the broken front door, the sounds of the carnival cutting short behind them. As they'd stepped inside, she'd heard a distant creaking, as well as manic laughter from behind one of the locked doors to their right. The frame rattled and banged against the jamb as they made their way past, Quinn gripping Santana's hand tightly in her own.

In the darkness of the narrow passages and the tight turns, it had been easy for Santana to lose herself. She'd felt Quinn's hand in hers the whole time, seeing the dim reflection of the low hanging lamps in her almond eyes, as cobwebs and torn curtains brushed against her bare skin. It had been freeing being alone with Quinn, but it had also sent her heart racing beneath her singlet at their constant proximity.

As they'd ventured deeper into the house, a wiry and bloodied butler and an elderly woman in 1800s garb were waiting in the shadows. Quinn and Santana were passing a set of rundown stairs leading them lower, when the butler's hands appeared, Santana whimpering and cringing away. But Quinn had just tightened her grip on her hand, her thumb making soothing circles on her sensitive skin, and her breath whispering gently near her ear. The feeling had sent a chill down Santana's back, and her mouth had gone dry at the ghostly touch.

_This girl is gonna kill me._

It had been ten minutes since they'd entered when Santana had paused underneath a flickering candle on the second floor, both hands clasped tightly behind her back. The tiny flame had thrown the rest of the hallway into shadows, Santana's eyes searching for Quinn in the darkness. She'd been separated from her sometime after the set of stairs when a group of teens had rushed passed in a flurry of screams.

"Quinn?" Santana had whispered, trying again vainly to find her friend. "This isn't funny."

Another couple had slowly crept past her; both of them huddled together, their eyes darting around the walls. She'd heard a high-pitched scream as they turned the corner, followed by a cackle and sharp shuffling footsteps. Santana wasn't usually put off by haunted houses; and she'd definitely seen worse coming from a small town like Lima. But something about this one had her heart hammering and her palms sweating uncomfortably.

Santana had braced herself against the wall, before taking a calming breath and pushing off from beneath the flickering candle. Her hands hadn't even left the wall when she felt fingertips graze her jaw. She'd shivered, those hands cupping her face before soft lips pressed firmly against her own. She'd moved up instinctively to pull the girl closer, but hit air as Quinn stepped back and disappeared again into the surrounding shadows.

"Still curious?" Santana had called after her breathlessly, only hearing Quinn's distant chuckle in return, the girl already rounding the next corner.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're searching for something, but you're not entirely sure what it is you're seeing?" Quinn asked, breaking Santana out of her reverie.

Santana shook her head, toying with one of the small white balls, "Just trying to figure you out."

She looked back over, seeing that smirk as Quinn leant in, grazing Santana's nose with her own. "When you do," Quinn husked against her lips, "let me know."

_Oh my God._

"So, where did Rachel get off to?" Santana asked, clearing her throat nervously. Quinn pulled back with a giggle, as Santana tried to gain back some resemblance of composure.

"Oh, she's waiting for you by the Ferris wheel," Quinn told her, placing another ball down the shoot.

"_Me?_" Santana questioned in surprise. "Why me?"

"Because I shotty not." Santana arched an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to explain further. Quinn caught the look on Santana's face, sighing and turning toward her. "She's afraid of them," she digressed, with a simple shrug.

"So then why is she doing it?" Santana asked, passing Quinn her next ball. "That's insane."

"She's conquering a fear."

"Oh," Santana mouthed, remembering that as one of the bucket list points. When she spotted it at the bar the previous night, she had to admit she was a little curious as to what it would entail. She somehow pictured Rachel petting a snake, or streaking down a public street. Not riding a Ferris wheel. It just seemed…tame, almost.

"We tried to cross it off when we were buying the van at Santa Monica Pier, but she didn't even make it off the ground, and my arm has the evidence to prove it. _So_," Quinn edged, popping in her last ball, "Good luck." She leant her elbow against the clown's shoulder and threw Santana that grin.

"Thanks," Santana deadpanned, before setting off to find Rachel. She passed numerous hotdog stands and cotton candy vendors, rounding the corner into the rides section of park. Bright flashing lights met her from every angle, and screams and shouts of euphoria came from high above as metal screeched against metal.

She made her way through the tilt-a-whirls and the merry-go-rounds, her eyes searching for the turnoff to the Ferris wheel. It didn't take her long to spot Rachel, the tiny brunette standing at the base of the wheel, her wide eyes looking up at the towering structure before them. Santana came up beside her, giving her a friendly nudge to get her attention. "You ready, short stuff?"

"As I'll ever be, I suppose," Rachel said nervously, tearing her gaze from the ride and setting them on Santana. She could see the genuine fear in the girl's eyes, her pupils completely eclipsing soft brown.

The pair kept silent as carnival goers before them were loaded into their seats. Rachel was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her teeth constantly worrying against her bottom lip. Santana found it hard not finding the gesture endearing, covering herself by biting her own.

"Next!" The attendant's commanding voice urged them both forward, Rachel going first and cautiously taking a seat on the cold metal of their carriage. The balding man slammed the lap bar down just as Santana sat next to her, making Rachel jump in her seat. She instinctively gripped Santana's thigh, but retracted it as soon as the ride jerked into motion.

"Sorry," Rachel mumbled, gripping the lip of the seat instead. "Habit. The last time I tried this was with Quinn, and we barely made it off the steel platform."

"She may have mentioned that," Santana teased. The fairground was just coming into full view as they began to near the top. "So why are you afraid of heights anyways?"

"It's not the height that's the problem as you might have guessed from the train tracks today," Rachel said in a tight voice, her back tense against the seat. "It's the falling and dying part. I could stand on top the Empire State Building and look out over the city with no problem. But being up here it's-" The Ferris wheel shook, the seat swinging back and forth violently on its hinge. Rachel made a grab for the metal lap bar, her knuckles turning a shade of white with the strain. "_Oh my god_, why did we stop?"

Santana looked over at her. Rachel's neck was flushed and her jaw was clenched painfully. She knew she shouldn't be finding this situation funny or amusing, but she couldn't help the small smile fighting its way to the surface. "I think they're putting more people on," Santana told her, trying to keep the laughter from her tone. Santana looked down over the edge again, watching as the attendant at the bottom helped another two riders into an empty bucket, the crowd looking like ants from a top the wheel.

"Please don't lean forward like that," Rachel pleaded, her eyes still shut and her knuckles only getting whiter.

"Okay, what should I be doing then?"

"I don't know," Rachel shrugged, her chest heaving. "I just need something to take my mind off being a hundred feet in the air on a ride that probably hasn't had maintenance work done since the late 70s."

"It's probably more like the 50s," Santana jested, watching as Rachel brow furrowed further and a muted whimper escaped.

"Please don't joke. I just-"

"Well, what else are we meant to do a hundred feet in the air?" Santana exclaimed in slight exasperation. "Play I Spy?"

Rachel eyes flicked to her nervously, her mouth opening and closing slightly, before a deep blush crept up her neck. Santana's heart fluttered in her chest at the shy look on Rachel's features, those dark brown eyes not quite meeting hers, but instead meeting her lips.

_Oh wow…_

"Close your eyes."

"What?" Rachel stammered.

"Just do it," Santana said gently. She had no idea what she was doing or even saying at this point. All she knew is what she wanted. She wanted to help Rachel. She wanted to make her forget she was hundred feet in the air. And she wanted to taste those lips.

Rachel took in a shaky breath, before doing as she was told. She could see Rachel's heart beating heavily as she shuffled closer to her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind the girl's ear. Santana felt Rachel shiver at the soft touch. She looked so innocent, just sitting stock still next to her.

Reaching out her left hand, she brushed it along her jaw and turned Rachel's face toward her, her eyes on those perfect lips as they parted slightly. With a shaky breath of her own, Santana closed the remaining inches, capturing them in a soft kiss. She tilted ever so slightly, taking her bottom lip into her mouth, slowly massaging it, her thoughts turning to white noise.

A low moan escaped Rachel's mouth, sending shockwaves through Santana, and making her push further forward, her free hand landing on soft thigh. So many thoughts seemed to run through her mind, but each one seemed to be snuffed out by the white noise and the feeling of those lips.

After a moment, Santana reluctantly broke the kiss, but kept her lips close to Rachel's. "Better?"

Rachel swallowed dryly, her eyes dazed and slightly hooded. "Not exactly," she whispered, a coy smile on her flushed lips. "I could be better."

Santana just laughed at the smaller girl, before her eyes darted back down and she pushed forward again, kissing her for a second time, seeking out that feeling of her lips once more. Santana slid her left hand up further to bury in her hair, threading the soft strands through her fingertips. Rachel's hands fell from the metal bar, and bunched in Santana's singlet, pulling her even closer. The girls barely registered the ride jolting into motion again, their seat swinging slightly with the momentum of the giant wheel.

"Should I count this as kissing a stranger_?_" Rachel mumbled against Santana's lips.

Santana nodded. "I think this counts."

They broke apart once their cart hit the bottom, both opting off. Santana's hands went straight for her pockets as Rachel walked ahead of her down the small set of stairs and onto solid ground.

Quinn was waiting for them at the bottom, holding a bag of multi-coloured cotton candy and sporting a wide grin. "So how'd did it go?" Quinn chirped. "Can we cross it off?"

"It was fine," Rachel replied in a clipped tone, her eyes finding Santana as she came up beside her.

"And not even scratch. How did you manage that?" Quinn asked, sounding rather impressed, before holding out the clear plastic bag to both of them. "Cotton Candy?"

Santana stepped forward, tearing off a piece of the soft blue pillow, and bringing it nervously to her mouth before answering. "Well-"

"She just talked to me, and thankfully didn't make the carriage tip too much," Rachel cut in before Santana even got her first word out. "Unlike _some _people."

"Wow, why didn't I think of that?" Quinn teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes shifted between both the girls as they stood a few feet apart, her brow knitting together at their somewhat guilty expressions and flushed lips.

"So who's for bumper cars?" Rachel announced abruptly, grabbing Quinn by the arm and dragging her away before she could voice any questions that Santana could see were forming just behind her lips.

They both hurried off, Santana noticing Quinn's smile reappear and that laughter floating into the night air as she ran off after her best friend, leaving Santana alone to follow them.


End file.
